


The Fall

by Eravalefantasy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Individual Chapters Carry Warnings, Non-Canonical Character Death, Red Lyrium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-22 13:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eravalefantasy/pseuds/Eravalefantasy
Summary: An unease grips Skyhold in the Inquisitor's absence, Commander Cullen Rutherford feels it most. Called to the woods each night, Cullen searches for the foe he believes waits for them in the dark. When he finds others share his concerns, the Commander's folly takes a serious turn.





	1. The Absence of Proof

Gwen’s departures from Skyhold never troubled Cullen until now. He’d sent the Inquisitor and her party to the Western Approach, a simple reconnaissance mission layered within another new area to explore.

Three days in, he found it hard to concentrate walking the ramparts in the predawn hours. Since her departure, Cullen’s ability to sleep seemed disrupted by displaced sounds and tense dreams. His investigations yielded nothing other than an unease he couldn’t quite explain.

Pausing, he wondered how his mind had become so preoccupied with the cluster of trees out beyond the incline. _A forewarning_ , he thought, dismissing the notion as absurd. A swift but silent reprimand returned Cullen to his office to finish his review. His thoughts refused to let go, leading him through the door and out into the courtyard. With a quick word to his men, Cullen directed them to choose a mount before leading his party off toward the edge of the incline.

 A bitter wind threatened, but Cullen held still, his eyes searching in the dark. Seeing nothing, he paused once more, a final scan of the tree line revealing his folly. “Nothing,” he said aloud, seeing his breath as he spoke. A second blast of icy wind cut through the small party. Apologizing for his mistake, Cullen instructed the men to return to the warmth of Skyhold.

Nearing the crest of the incline, Cullen turned his mount around again to catch another gust of wind. The faint scent of a wood fire held his attention, but the forest beyond lay dark and empty. _It’s too cold to survive without an active campfire_ , he reminded himself, dismissing his concerns. 

Bull waited at the portcullis, a pointed stare out beyond the gate. “That’s the third time since Gwen left.”

Shrugging, Cullen handed the reigns off to another soldier. “Apologies,” Cullen said, glancing up at the Qunari. Cullen stepped around Bull only to turn around. “I know there’s nothing there and yet, I cannot let it go.”

“Then don’t.” Bull’s slow steps carried him toward the main gate. “Shut the gate. The Inquisitor won’t return for weeks and something is drawing you out there.” Without turning to face Cullen, he continued. “Could be nothing, but hey. . .”

Considering Bull did not ridicule his concerns, Cullen asked several pointed questions before ordering the large metal portcullis lowered.

Bull kept pace with the Commander as he answered. “Yea. I’ve felt that before and let me tell you something Cullen, it’s never a good sign.”

Cullen nodded. “Then it is nothing but a desperate hope that all is well, when it may not be.”

“Listen. We’ve talked about this before. You’ve seen shit that would have fucked up most men years ago.” Bull and Cullen often talked about a great many things, Cullen respected Bull’s intelligence and impartial view. “That kind of experience, it changes your awareness. When something like this happens, you don’t ignore it.”

Disbelieving in signs and portents, Cullen would have argued lack of sleep or concerns over the Inquisitor’s well-being. Instead, he enlisted Bull’s help. “I’ll talk with Leliana, but perhaps the Chargers-”

The Qunari held up his hand, preventing Cullen from continuing. “Tell us what you need, and it’s done.” Knowing Leliana to rise early, Bull suggested Cullen share his concerns with the Spymaster. “I’ll be in the Rest, find me when you need the Chargers.”

__________

“You think me mad, don’t you?” Despite his usual animosity towards Leliana’s feathered creatures, Cullen took solace in petting the large black bird resting on a wooden perch. The bird sported the colors of Orlais; a small cuff attached to leg held ribbons of gold and purple. She was no ordinary messenger. Cullen’s soft tutting sounds and gentle touch lulled the bird on her resting place.

“She likes you, Commander. Why am I not surprised?” The soft teasing lilt to Leliana’s voice turned to laughter when he scoffed in response.

Rather than engage Leliana, Cullen continued. “This is the Empress’ messenger, is it not?” Waiting for her answer pulled Cullen’s attention away from the bird. When he stopped, the bird nipped his fingers at the loss of affection.

Surprised, the Spymaster’s quick steps showed her concern. “Did she break the skin?” Leliana held out her gloved hand, but Cullen waved concerns away, leaning on the railing.

“No,” he replied, “it is the first tangible experience in some time, no harm done.” He sighed. “It is a reminder that one can get lost in thought instead of focusing on what is real.”

Humming in response, Leliana waited to see if Cullen would continue. The Spymaster had agreed to observe their Commander in Cassandra’s absence with a great deal of reluctance. She’d seen no signs that warranted concern, until now. Knowing his demeanor had little to do with his health, she ignored his melancholy. Cullen guarded his emotions well; never one for open discussion, Leliana recognized his presence in front of her now carried a greater weight.

“If I may answer your earlier question, you are perhaps more grounded now than ever before. As such, I trust your intuition almost as much as my own.” A sideways glance and hint of a smile had its desired effect.

The Commander’s soft laugh and agreeable nod preceded his half-hearted response. “Thank you, Leliana.” The two stood for a few moments, listening to the squawking birds. “They seem restless,” Cullen offered, “more than usual, I mean to say.”

“You’re correct,” she agreed sighing through her explanation, “I thought at first it might be the approaching storm, and while it very well could be-I am no fool.” Leliana gestured toward her desk. Taking a few steps, she pulled out a series of maps, pointing out routes. “I’ve sent a number of scouts and a few of my best trackers, if there is cause for concern-they will find it.”

That Leliana had the foresight to dismiss the unease of her pets and then parlay those concerns into one of her investigations proved to Cullen his concerns might be valid. He wondered if the Chargers could be useful. “And Bull’s men?”

The large female bird screeched for attention, Leliana answering its demands. Light and even strokes calmed the agitated creature, allowing Leliana a moment to reply. “Let us keep them close. Maker willing, this is nothing.”  
__________

Returning to his office, Cullen’s thoughts wandered to Gwendolyn. It had been his contention from the start that Gwendolyn Trevelyan could be the leader the Inquisition needed. He’d seen mages like her before, noble families demanding obedience and piety while handing them to the Order for care. Cassandra contended they couldn’t trust a mage and even more so a frightened child who refused to speak her mind. When they’d met in Haven, Cullen first mistook her as Cassandra believed-a frightened, undisciplined mage.

He’d agreed to offer instruction in close quarter fighting. Cassandra admitted to having little patience or the belief in Andraste’s chosen Herald and instead passed the task to Cullen. He’d enlisted the help of Harritt, requesting two curved daggers for the Herald’s use.

At first, Lady Trevelyan had resisted, but a quick appeal on his part allowed the training to begin.

_“So, I hold them up like this,” she said, holding up a dagger in each hand. Resisting the urge to sigh yet again, Cullen rubbed his face. He’d tried to explain, he’d even demonstrated, and still she’d continued to look like a deranged cook, shrugging with knives in hand._

_“The fault is mine, my Lady Herald-” Cullen began._

_Gwen dropped her arms to her side. “Stop calling me that,” she snapped, catching him off guard._

_Apologizing even though Cullen couldn’t understand what he’d said wrong, he hesitated; Lady Trevelyan stepped towards him, and then away. Once more she stepped in Cullen’s direction, opening her mouth as if she’d wanted to speak to him saying nothing._

_He known moments such as these, when the desire to shout and scream to release the relentless pressures would be silenced by the need to act as expected. Unsure if it would help, Cullen offered Gwendolyn a chance to speak without fear. “I am here to listen if that’s what you require.”_

_Gwendolyn shook her head, rough steps carrying her to the training post. Anger guided her hands, the daggers raised above her head before impaling the post. She wheeled to face him. “What I require is for all of you to stop this nonsense! Is that clear enough? Send me home.”_

_“My lady?” Expecting to see tears, Cullen read aggravation directed toward him._

_“You heard me. Send me home.”_

_He’d learned to keep control of his anger during his years in Kirkwall. Arriving in Haven had renewed the need to temper his reactions. The women he worked alongside found every way to undermine Cullen’s viewpoint, or suggestions; each of them sure their path better than the one he’d offered. But this pushed him to react._

_“You would abandon these people to save yourself? Think what you will. The truth Lady Trevelyan lies within your hand. Only you can seal these rifts.” The knot in his forehead tightened. “Leave if you feel you must. Maker grant you peace in your condemnation of those who will stay and fight.”_

_Her face slackened, the bravado she’d felt earlier deflated by his words. “I can’t. . .you don’t understand.”_

_Cullen crossed his arms, “you’d be surprised at what I am able to comprehend, my lady.”_

_No longer meeting his eyes, the rigidity she’d held earlier slouched forward, her head shaking as she spoke. “I’m scared. There is more at risk here than just me. You all look to me to save you and I haven’t the faintest idea of where to begin-or what to do.”_

_Her honesty surprised Cullen, but in her admission, he read uncertainty rather than avoidance. He saw the arrogance of their assumptions. Believing Andraste’s chosen to be a battle-hardened hero ready to build an army and lead the charge led them to this conversation. The mistake would cost them everything, but Cullen could see beyond her uncertainty, beyond her fear. He could train her as he had others in the Order; despite being a mage, confidence, skill and a shared purpose could give them the leader they required._

_With little time to respond to her concerns, he said the first words that sprang to mind. “Allow me to help guide you along with Leliana and Josephine – not one of us will let you fall. Together we can succeed. You need only accept the help offered to you.”_


	2. An Unbreakable Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth facing Skyhold is revealed; those within her walls must prepare. Commander Cullen's relentless drive becomes a liability forcing the Inner Circle to take action. When the warning bells toll, two warriors decide who will lead the charge and who will remain behind.

An eerie familiarity hung around Gwendolyn Trevelyan; Cullen could never quite explain the experience. Reserved more often than not, Gwendolyn shocked him with sudden bursts of confidence; it had taken a while to realize she flirted in those moments. 

Shaking his head, Cullen cleared his thoughts of the Inquisitor from his prescient mind _.  Head in the matter at hand, please_. A strong self-reminder issued now and again would help gather his wandering thoughts. “I should have slept,” he told the weary reflection staring from the mirror. Another call from the soldier below pulled Cullen’s attention once more.

“A moment!” Opting to return for his armor, Cullen slid down the ladder to listen why he’d endured such an early wake up call.

“The Qunari, Ser. He ordered me to wake you. Please, the ramparts . . . he waits.”

Bull issuing orders to Inquisition soldiers piqued his interest. Long strides carried the Commander out on the ramparts; a group had gathered staring out into the expanse. Curious as to the strange fixation, Cullen focused his attention in the same direction. Far off in the distance, an orange glow deep into the forest grabbed his attention. Without breaking his gaze, he closed the distance hoping for an explanation.

Leliana, hidden from view, stepped back, revealing her presence. “My scouts say the glow in the distance is twenty Red Templars heading toward Skyhold. We can take care of this wave without concern.”

Unsure if his lack of sleep played with his awareness; Cullen questioned her words. “This wave?”

Turning to face Cullen and Leliana, Bull sighed. “Yeah. There’s another forty or fifty,” he looked to Leliana for her nod confirmation, “crossing from Ferelden now. Matter of time.”

His concern pushed aside, Cullen took command. “Do not sound the alarm. Have the Chargers gather all civilians and give them two hours. No heavy burdens, I will speak with Master Dennett, as many as can ride will take the mounts and head to Jader. Those who wish to continue outside the Inquisition may head toward Lydes or Verchiel. Instruct Josephine to divide the funds we have as she is able.” He paced. “Belay that, we need an emergency meeting. All those who may contribute, meet in the War Room in ten minutes. If we three spread the word, let no signal pass beyond the walls.” His orders relayed, Cullen returned to his tower.

l-l-l

Apprehension and uncertainty joined those gathered in the War Room. Voices rose in waves as information passed from person to person. A sharp whistle from the front silenced the room. Crossing his arms, Bull confirmed what so many feared. “We have Red Templars heading this way. Twenty is our best guess.” He looked toward Cullen and Leliana, handing the briefing to the next.

Leliana’s voice rang with such presence; most did not expect her strength of conviction as she spoke. “We expect another wave or perhaps two of equal or greater numbers to come for us.” Murmurs through the room grew to loud protests prompting another whistle to quiet the group.  “The Inquisition, will endure, but all of you  must carry her through. Commander?”  

Cullen leaned on the large table before them, his head bowed. “Bull’s Chargers will evacuate all civilians and our stables to Jader. From there, those who wish to remain may travel to Orlais and the White Spire. It will serve as a temporary base if need be.”

From the rear, a voice challenged. “Abandon Skyhold? What of the Inquisitor?”

The Commander straightened, hands leaning on the pommel of his sword. “Skyhold will not fall to the Red Templars, but I will consign none of you to remain behind. Those willing, prepare for battle. To those who wish to travel to Orlais, I ask that you watch over the civilians on the paths. Maker guard your steps and guide your hearts.”

l-l-l

Never had a battle fatigued him so; knees locked, Cullen’s sword supported him. With so few attempting to breach Skyhold’s walls, Cullen realized he should have withdrawn. The Red Templars faced an Inquisition force four times their number and her defenders proved victorious with minor injuries.

The sudden warmth of healing magic covering him renewed Cullen’s strength. He turned to find Vivienne standing behind him. “You have my thanks, my lady.”

“Your charm is quite useless here, Commander. You are a liability until you have rested.” She turned to acknowledge a request from across the courtyard before facing Cullen once more. “A word of caution. If you disregard my warning, I assure you the outcome will not be as pleasant. Now go.”

Cullen regarded Vivienne, unsure even with the hint of a smile on her face as to the truth of her warning.    Fatigue announced itself in every labored step. How long had sleep eluded him? _Days_ , he thought, _even a few hours would be sufficient._     Crossing the courtyard toward his office, Bull called to Cullen. 

When the Qunari reached him, Cullen noted the bottle in his hand. “Do I want to know?”

Bull offered the bottle.  “Here. It’s some kind of sleep thing.  The ice queen‘s orders.“

Cullen chuckled. “You mean the Iron Lady.” 

“No, I mean the ice queen.  Vivienne.  Whatever.  Look, she froze some guy just for looking at her wrong, so just drink the shit. I fucking hate cold.”

Accepting the proffered potion, Cullen wondered aloud if drinking it would impair him. Concerned he might be of little use if the Red Templars advanced sooner than expected, Bull assured him nothing would happen.

“Leliana is positive we have a few days, three or maybe four. This will knock you on your ass for a day.”  

After a quiet standoff, Cullen wriggled the stopper free and drank the contents.   “I trust you’ll act in my absence to push the-” Cullen yawned, long and loud he paused, unsure what he’d been saying, “forgive me, where was I?”

Bull turned his shoulder toward the tower stairs. “You were just leaving.”

Cullen’s forehead knotted for a moment, confusion crossing his face. “Yes, Leaving.”  Taking the steps in slow and even strides, Cullen yawned several more times, apologizing to no one in particular before disappearing inside his office.

   
l-l-l

  
“Two bloody days!”  Tossing through his clothing trunk, Cullen swore as he searched for a warmer tunic; he expected they’d meet the encroaching Red Templars outside the walls of Skyhold.   When he’d woken, his runner explained the passage of time. 

Cullen’s propriety prevented him from snapping at the young dwarf; to hold her accountable for the additional rest . . . illogical . “Remind me to thank the Lady Vivienne for her superb skills.”

“Ser?”

Used to the vague addresses over the years, Cullen knew well what it meant. _My superior is ranting but at least it’s not directed toward me._ “I seem to have misplaced my lined tunic.”

From below, the runner responded, “No Ser, it’s on the armor stand.  You’d requested it.”

He rubbed his forehead, trying to hold back the annoyance at the lost time. Sighing through his words, Cullen offered his thanks as he dressed; grateful at the diligence and help his runner had provided. They changed almost every week and before the trouble began Cullen had learned each runner’s name. Cullen realized he’d never asked.

 His desk surprised him, folios stacked on one side and reports on the other, every paper neat and precise.  Fighting back a hint of a smile, Cullen had found the perfect assistant. “I’ve only just realized I neglected to ask your name when you joined me.”  

“My name, Ser? It’s Tascha- Tascha Alkan, Ser.”

Cullen talked with Tascha, apologizing for his oversight and complimenting her fastidious attention to his desk.  During their conversation, Bull entered without knocking.

“Oh crap,” Bull said before he could stop himself.  Tascha pressed her lips together to hide her reaction.

Cullen hummed in response.  

A few quick nods of his head sent Cullen’s runner from the room, before Bull tried to start a conversation. “So, yeah. Sorry about that, I didn’t know how strong Vivienne had made the potion. I can tell you’re pissed. I don’t blame you.”

His eyes still glued to the reports, Cullen nodded. “Apology accepted, but that’s the last time I trust you, friend, and I might add, _pissed_ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Bull had meant well, Cullen understood the reasons behind Vivienne’s actions. A superficial sense of anger enveloped him, more embarrassment at his absence than much of anything else, Cullen didn’t have the luxury of holding a grudge. “Where are we?”

Leading Cullen to the Rookery across the courtyard, Bull outlined their plan. With the civilians on their way to Jader, those who remained had worked in shifts to ensure proper rest and continue preparations. Cullen listened, holding his questions until Bull finished his update.

Leliana’s small aviary within her tower lay almost empty; three birds sat on their wooden perches. Leliana answered Cullen’s unspoken question. “All my charges except for these three carried warnings to all our allies, asking the recipients to house their messenger until all is safe.”

The next question weighed on Cullen’s chest, a small contingent could withstand one, perhaps two waves of the Red Templars, but without a proper army, their survival seemed grim. “How many remained behind?”

“All of them, Cullen. Not one soldier wanted to leave. We had to force several groups to accompany the civilians, and I am certain they plan to return. We’ve one hundred and fifty here, and all are pulling multiple duties.”

Bull interjected what he knew. “With all the civilians gone, the soldiers have divided duties from kitchen, weapons, fortifications, all of it; they’re not giving up Skyhold without a fight.”

The sudden tolling of the warning bell and shouts from the courtyard announced the first wave. Leliana grabbed her bow and quiver, reminding the two her tower would remain locked from both entrances until needed as a sanctuary. “Maker watch over you,” she said, leading them toward the stairs.

A final check of his armor and sword, Cullen grabbed a shield from the pile near the stable as others armed themselves.  Bull waited at the gate.

As the soldiers made room for Cullen to advance toward the front, he called out to Bull. “No, I need you to remain here. I can trust no one else.”

Bull shook his head. “Not gonna happen, Cullen. You go, I go.”

The slow rise of the portcullis gave Cullen little time. “Bull. You must do as I ask. Do not let them cross into Skyhold. Should we fail, you are to cut the chains and seal the gate.  You understand, Skyhold must stand.” The portcullis stopped, its chains locked. “For Gwen, she will need this place. Promise me.”

“Dammit.” Bull exhaled and squared his shoulders. “Fuck.”  He watched as four guards slid the beams from their locked position preparing to open the outer gate, before stowing his axe.  “All right. Fine. I’ll stay.”


	3. A Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, one remains unaccounted for leading to speculation and a new assignment. The fate of the Inquisition rests in the hands of the missing man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers: Forced lyrium use, violence

Armor is not indestructible, swords break in the deftest of hands and even the most gifted tactician can be wrong. Leliana refused to leave the ramparts even after night fell and the forest quieted. She sent four scouts to track the retreat of the Red Templars for one reason-they’d taken a prisoner. Cullen had disappeared halfway through the battle, a few soldiers recalled his presence on the right flank, but when the Templars retreated, Cullen could not be found.

 The Red Templars had never taken prisoners intending to bargain for their return. Once taken, most captives worked as laborers. This action had no reward, and Cullen could not have been the target. “Or was he?” She’d wondered aloud, but the curious nature of her question earned Bull’s attention.

“What?”

Tapping her index finger against her lips, Leliana shared what she had uncovered. “Samson. Raleigh Samson. I’d overlooked him, but now? What if this was the goal?” She had to consider the possibility. Leliana explained the previous connection with two men. “However fleeting, they served together for a time. Cullen, the favored one of the Knight Commander and Samson, expelled for passing notes for a mage. The charges had proved fabricated, what we uncovered was a series of letters passed between two mages with Samson as the go between.”

The information spilled from Leliana in such a steady stream of facts, Bull had trouble keeping up. “So the guy has a grudge? What does that have to do with the Red Templars?”

Leliana’s slow pacing helped her think. “I’m unsure, perhaps if we had more information about the Red Templars.”  Speaking over her shoulder, Leliana asked about Dagna’s progress. “What do we know about Dagna’s work? What can we expect?”

“I haven’t moved since we pulled back. Hell, I’m just as cut off as you are.” He groaned. “Hey. Sorry.”

She waved his apology away. “You’re right.” Staring out into the woods, Leliana sighed. “I failed her.”

Bull disagreed. “No. If we blame anyone, it should have been me out there.” After a few minutes, Bull promised to return with the watch. “We’ll search first thing and if we don’t find him. I’m going hunting.”

Caution laced her words, reminding Bull of his promises.

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. He’d do the same for any of us. We can’t lose the Commander of the Inquisition, Red.”

“As of now, that’s you until we bring Cullen back.”

 

l-l-l

 

Every morning when Cullen woke, recognition sparked his equilibrium. Mornings in Skyhold had a smell. The constant chill in the air carried a mix of warm straw and charcoal embers through the windows and cracks in the ceiling, mixing with the scent of polished metal and parchment within his tower.  

An early riser, Cullen often waited to hear the stablehands walk the various mounts around the courtyard, interrupted by the occasional snort or hiss of appreciation. These were familiar, normal and the means to remind Cullen of where he lay.

When he woke, everything had changed.  Lifting his head, Cullen gasped as a sharp pain travelled from the base of his skull upwards; he winced, feeling a tender spot near his neck. The flesh sticky and swollen, his fingers bore the evidence of an unknown injury revealing a reddish-brown residue from contact.

Broken questions and half spoken words fell from his lips announcing his confusion, leading Cullen to realize his armor gone and the surroundings unfamiliar. Weary eyes focused on a tent of deepest red, but even in such a state, the sight of a large shield resting nearby allowed him to breathe. “I must have hit my head.” Disorientation slowed his movements. Expecting the surgeon or a mage to discourage his movement, Cullen resolved to return to his tower.

Cautious steps carried him toward the tent flap, but it was a gust of frigid air that cleansed the uncertainty. He shivered from the cold, surprised the fires of Skyhold were unlit. Stepping from the tent, the sight of the forest floor and the clusters of trees gripped his chest in shock. “Where?”

A sudden displacement of air next to him preceded violent hands grabbing his arms, holding him in place. Where his captor’s skin touched his, the intensity of heat burned. Cullen tried to turn his head and glimpse who held him, but each move he made met with a pull or a shake to break his line of sight.

“Release me.” Despite his mounting concern, Cullen fought to maintain an outward calm. _Show no fear_ ; he reminded himself, _give no satisfaction_. 

Half-dragged through the foreign camp, Cullen held back a gasp at the sight of two guards standing watch, flanking a large tent. _Red Templars_ , he thought, _more beast than human_. Both creatures panted, their breath visible to Cullen. The breathing method reminded Cullen of mabari hounds, eager and ready to strike panting to stave off their excess energy. Pauldrons strapped to their massive arms drew attention to the veins in their arms swollen and pulsing in angry rhythms. As they approached, Cullen’s eye fixed on the large clusters of crystals growing through the skin of their hands.  

Yanked through the tent flap, Cullen struggled against his captors; eyes narrowing in recognition at the figure occupying the tent. “Samson.” His appearance had changed from Cullen’s memory. Samson had thinned, sharpening the angles of his face; red rimmed eyes no longer reflected desperation and need. Wearing his contempt in a sneer, Samson basked in Cullen’s efforts to break free.

“Enough of this!” Cullen’s voice still carried the authority of command, despite his captivity.

Raleigh Samson had been a Templar in Kirkwall prior to Cullen’s arrival. Cast out by the Knight Commander for offenses against the Order, he’d lingered around Kirkwall for years, addicted to lyrium with no means of supporting his habit. He’d been the perfect choice to lead the opposition’s army. Devious and arrogant, Samson hated the Order and the Chantry.

“If it isn’t the Commander of the Inquisition.” Samson said seating himself on a trunk. “Hello Cull. Let’s talk.” Samson dismissed Cullen’s guards. “I’d advise you to play nice, my friend. If you attempt to escape, you _will_ die.”

Years prior, Cullen harbored a sense of responsibility for Samson’s predicament in the Order. He’d believed the punishment harsh, but had not expressed his concerns to Knight Commander Meredith. Cullen felt nothing staring at the man across the tent. “Whatever you seek will not come to pass, nor will I bargain for my life. Kill me.”

“You will address me as General Samson.” Samson’s chuckle grew into a hearty laugh. “I may just keep you around for levity’s sake."

Cullen remained still. He would give no satisfaction. His head throbbed, his injury still fresh in the memory of his skin, but the pain gave him purpose and focus allowing Cullen to blot out his surroundings and Samson’s taunts.

Standing before him, Samson shoved his finger into Cullen’s face. “You can end this. Renounce the Inquisition.”

Loyalty spoke without Cullen’s permission. “No.”

“No? You refuse to even consider your freedom for the Inquisition?”  Samson waited for a reply, hearing none he called to the guards. “Restrain him.” Returning to the trunk, Samson lifted the lid, the hinges grinding from excessive use. “A test of wills is a dangerous game, my friend. Knowing you, as I do, I would lose any such contest.” He pulled a small object from inside holding it up between his thumb and index finger. “Instead of playing fair, I shall cheat.” A lyrium vial glowed a reddish hue, and Cullen held his breath.

With a nod, Cullen’s guard held him still.

“Open his mouth,”  the order brought the guard around to face him, the stench of rot and earth nauseating Cullen more with each second. “Every time you fail to answer, you will drink.”

The crushing strength on his arms intensified as another grotesque hand removed all of Cullen’s resistance allowing the tainted liquid to drain down his throat.

“Welcome to the ranks, my friend. Let’s see how long your sanctimonious nonsense lasts now.”

 

 l-l-l

 

Each morning for a week, guards escorted Cullen to Samson’s tent. A single question asked.

_Will you renounce the Inquisition?_

Cullen answered, not wishing to partake of red lyrium, regardless of the strength surging through his body. “No.”

On the eighth day, Samson changed his question. “How many remain within the walls?”

“I do not know. How many did you kill?” Defiance still lived within Cullen.

Samson delved into the trunk, pulling out another vial. “Careful, Cullen,” he said, rolling the vial between his fingers. Samson sighed. “I’m feeling generous today and so a bargain. I will withdraw, leaving the keep to the Inquisition.”

At first, Cullen sought to agree. The absence of the cost troubled him.  “What is it you seek?”

“Ah!” Samson’s grin widened. “Renounce the Inquisition and deliver the Inquisitor.”

 _Never_ , he thought, _I am certain my release is a fallacy; he’s enjoying his game far too much_. Playing by Samson’s rules had proved simple enough, but when the desired result had failed, his adversary changed the rules to suit the goal. “I will never deliver the Inquisitor. Nor will I speak of the Inquisition. You have but one choice. Kill me.”

A strange expression settled over Samson; a juxtaposition of a harsh stare and jovial smile that sent a shiver up Cullen’s neck. “You’re wrong.” Samson called to the guards and ordered Cullen’s restraint. “What I have in mind will be far more rewarding.”


	4. A Cruel Jest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks have passed in the Red Templar camp, and while Skyhold remains safe the fate of Commander Cullen rests with Samson.

_A soldier knows friendships built by war face innumerable odds from inception. Victories are bittersweet when the ally next to you fails to rise at the end, but is the missing mourned the most, a hidden fate that haunts the living._

Bull shoved the book into the bookcase. “No wonder he’s so much fun. Cullen needs to lighten up,” Bull said, “We should replace some of these books with Varric’s shit.”

Laughing from across the room, Blackwall responded. “You know, Sera did that. Cullen barred her from his office after.” The Warden waited a few minutes before leading the conversation. “The ladies expressed concern about you.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No. Perhaps not.” Their laughter continued until Blackwall’s expression fell, laughter replaced by unease. “The Red Templars have Cullen, don’t they?”

Air rushed from Bull’s lungs, deflating and exhaustive. “Yeah, they do.  It’s been three weeks. That’s not a good sign. Red says her people have seen no movement, which means this _Samson_ is waiting for something or someone.”

 

l-l-l

 

“The Inquisition has abandoned you Cullen.” Samson’s voice, taut with aggravation pleased Cullen. “How long will you protect them?”

Cullen allowed his thoughts to speak for him, a private conversation maintaining his sanity. Rebellion still coursed through him, keeping his silence and fortifying his will. _Until my last breath_.

"Give me the numbers, Cullen. How many in the ranks?” When Cullen refused to meet the question Samson reached behind him, lifting a large sack. The bag, once used for grain, clinked as the contents shifted within. “Do you know what this is?”  He waited for the answer despite knowing Cullen would say nothing. “This _, old friend_ , is what true power looks like.”

Upending the bag, empty lyrium vials littered the tent floor. At a glance, Cullen guessed over one hundred small vials covered the area around his feet. Seeing the pile, memories of forced ingestion flooded back to him. _How many have I. . .?_ He tried to picture each incident in his mind.

“Allow me to help you understand, this is not the waste of this camp, Cullen. This is yours. All of it. Every. Last. Draught.” Satisfied his revelation would spark a reaction, Samson waited.

 _Impossible_ , he thought. Cullen assured himself he’d resisted, followed Samson’s game, and the show of empty vials-a trick. Unable to recall the last time he ate or slept, he wondered how much time had slipped from him, and in those moments what had occurred.

Samson approached. “Renounce the Inquisition.”

Cullen answered out of spite. “If the answer has not changed, why persist? Are you so daft you fail to comprehend the meaning of my replies?”

“Careful, friend.”

Samson presented him a means of release, if he insisted on responsiveness, Cullen would oblige.

“Friend, you say? I am your prisoner; there is no illusion of friendship.” Cullen pressed forward in speech and encroaching steps. “My answer to your question is simple. I will not renounce the Inquisition.”

Samson sighed, shaking his head. “Cullen, you’re a Templar not a pawn of the Inquisition. I’m trying to help you.”

“Help. . .this is the furthest . . . of all the. . .you’re mad.” At a loss, Cullen stumbled through his response still searching for an explanation. Held for two perhaps three weeks at most, if he accepted the consumption a fact, then the consequences would be dire. “What have you done?”

The response from Samson, half scoff and half laugh added to Cullen’s growing agitation. They didn’t know enough about red lyrium. Cullen tasked Dagna to research what she could in safety. An involuntary shudder moved through him. Meredith. He’d seen the price of her obsession, it consumed her mind and then . . . he pushed the thought away. _I will not suffer the same fate_. “Enough games. End this.”

“You can end this. Give me what I need to know and all this madness ends.” Samson stood. “How do I defeat the Inquisitor?”

 Cullen had to respond, but could never betray Gwen. Closing his eyes, he sought to find words to anger Samson, force him to act and thereby end this game. “You won’t. It is not possible for someone as weak of mind and spirit to defeat the Inquisitor. She is formidable. Those closest to Lady Gwendolyn will never turn.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Shaking his head, Cullen saw no reason to withhold his thoughts. “As advisor to the Inquisitor I know the mind of all those in her company. I know the capabilities and limitations of each. We held fast against your attempted attack and might I remind you, there was no victory in battle-your superior Templars retreated.”

“You were the goal, Cullen.”

His heart sank; Cullen had feared his capture a planned outcome. Now confirmed, he understood there would be no return.

Without a care for politeness, Cullen started his needling; to be believable, he would have to build his verbal attack in a natural progression. “A stupid and wasted chance; you could have taken Skyhold. Your retreat shows your ineptitude.” Cullen continued, stealing a glance to see the beginnings of a frown on his adversary’s face.  “This is why you failed, Samson. Why you have _always_ failed. You don’t have the proper intelligence for command.”

“And yet, here you are.” A clenched jaw and narrowed eyes revealed Cullen had struck well, but it would not be enough. “We have more than blind luck on our side.”

In their discussions, Cullen discerned that Corypheus had promised much to the former Templar. In a single thought, Cullen found the heart of Samson’s weakness. “You have no right to claim leadership here.”

“Is that right?”

The rise in Samson’s agitation provided fuel to Cullen’s hope. _A little further_ , he promised himself, _just a little further and then this will end._ “You are no better than a player on a stage.” He tossed his hand out in a dismissive manner, earning another glare. “Donning a costume, you parade around as though you have a right to bear the honor that carries a Templar. But you are no Templar. Expulsion is final, _friend_. I should have turned you in sooner, but I had to wait. I had to be sure I could convince Meredith you were a liability.”

A lie. Convenient, but a lie. Cullen did not know of the truth of Samson’s infractions until Leliana had uncovered the story.

“You!” The single word carried disbelief into being, but Samson’s clenched fists and growing snarl confirmed Cullen had succeeded. “I should have known the pious act was for show. You tried to destroy me!”

The feigned laughter sounded hollow to Cullen, but Samson had to believe. “Tried to destroy you? I succeeded; I convinced the Knight Commander to toss you out. Look at you still pretending. You’re an embarrassment.”

Blind rage advanced, sword in hand. Seeing his release, Cullen closed his eyes and waited to die.

Laughter rang out in the tent first, followed by a dulled thump. “You’re good, Cullen.” Samson continued to laugh. “Had you not closed your eyes I would have struck you down.” Picking up his sword Samson glanced back several times. “Thank you. I now understand how to crack through your Inquisitor. I will take what matters most, beginning with you. Separate the Inquisitor from her inner circle; and take back what she had stolen. You have been most helpful Cullen and I will make one final offer. Join me and we will walk away, leaving your precious Inquisition and the _Lady Gwendolyn_ alone.”

The answer clear in his mind, Cullen replied with the same conviction he’d maintained. “I cannot.”

“Then you will witness the end to the Inquisition as one of us.”

Unafraid, Cullen advanced. “I challenge you to put a weapon in my hands; if you do, I will take as many of you as possible leaving you with nothing or securing my death.”


	5. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and her party return from the Western Approach to a very different Skyhold.

There was only one problem with the return from the Western Approach; none of Gwen’s companions knew when to stop talking. After the raucous tales, drunken dares and wagered sparring she’d had enough. Varric, Sera and Dorian guffawed and shouted at whatever latest Varric shared. Gwen, without an ounce of patience unleashed a bolt of lightning close to the three, but far enough not to startle the horses.

The resulting shouts and claims of foul attitude met with snickers and jests from Hawke and Warden Alistair; leaving Cassandra to reign in the Inquisitor’s latest mood. Reminding Gwen of the plan to return to Skyhold, the thought of seeing Cullen seemed to calm her agitated state.

The rest of the trek up the mountain path carried the party in silence. Gwen’s uncertainties in her ability to lead much less plan such a complicated siege against the legendary Grey Wardens reinforced her self-doubt. Unable to look beyond her failings, Gwen would once again turn to Cassandra, Cullen and Leliana to guide her.

Skyhold’s towers would be visible once the party crested the incline, and the anticipation of their return after an arduous four-month journey invigorated Gwen. Her attention shifted to her left where Cassandra and Hawke pointed at a strange glow seeping through the treetops and hanging low in the sky.

“Strange sunset.” Hawke said. “I don’t like it.”

Cassandra disagreed. “That is not the sunset. Solas?”

“I cannot say. I would agree the glow is not from the sun. We should proceed with caution.”

Gwen’s gentle pat urged the Hart to pick up his pace. In front of her, she noticed Inquisition soldiers kneeling in the snow. She wondered if Cullen had run drills this far outside the walls.

Skyhold’s towers visible, Gwen urged the Hart to move faster, trying to discern the nature of the drill. A hundred yards out, her Hart reared back and snorted, stopping its advance. She’d never heard the beast growl; Harts were gentle, at least with her.

_“Nothing but an oversized deer,” Cullen explained, “nothing to fear at all. They’re very perceptive–try not to be afraid, Inquisitor.”_

Fear and insecurities. Gwen hadn’t expected a war, born into a respectable family in Ostwick and sent to the Circle as a child. Sheltered and protected by family and Templars all her life. Without her advisors and companions, Gwen couldn’t trust her decisions.

She tried to calm the Hart, but continued grunts, snorts and the way the beast shifted from hoof to hoof, inching backwards revealed the truth of it. “You’re _scared,”_ she voiced, “please, keep going.” Tentative steps and the occasional snort carried her closer to the dark snow. Approaching one patch, her curiosity met with calls for her to turn back. Hawke arrived at her side first, her mount turning in circles. Gwen glimpsed Sera, Dorian and Varric riding on ahead.

“Inquisitor, come with me and let the others investigate. Ride towards Alistair.” Hawke’s words, concise and commanding incited Gwen’s stubbornness. She climbed from her saddle and trudged towards the soldier. Each step closer in the snow gave way to a rosy tinge.

“That’s. . .that’s blood!” Gwen’s eyes widened. _No. Maker, no._ She hurried closer; her thudding heart and hasty breathing added to her disorientation. She neared the first heap to see two figures. Green hood, blue hide gloves, a scout’s basic uniform. An indentation at her feet yielded a short sword. However, it was the second figure that claimed her balance, sending her to her knees. She forced a closer look, red ice crystals frozen against the warrior’s skin. The crimson lines on his neck marked the path of corruption in his blood. “That is not ice, it’s lyrium,” Gwen breathed as she read a mix of anger and concern on the Seeker’s face. “The Red Templars, but . . .how?”

The lack of Cassandra’s usual conviction evident in her soft words disturbed Gwen further. “We must–we will take you to Redcliffe for now. Your safety above all, you must not go further.”

Skyhold had suffered in her absence. “Four months of desert and demons. We left them unprotected and you want to run?” Mage Trevelyan always listened to those around her, always followed the rules without question. She hid behind her betters for fear of failing, but Inquisitor Trevelyan had lost too many. “What of the wounded? We can’t retreat until no doubt remains, Cassandra.”

Gwen ran towards the gate, ignoring the screams and shouts for her to stop, stumbling over strewn bodies of Inquisition soldiers and Red Templars alike. Her staff toyed with her balance as she ran the harness off-center and slipping with each step. Shifting her staff to balance, Gwen checked the twin daggers Cullen had given her. She had argued with him when he’d insisted Gwen carry them.

_“Inquisitor, it is not unheard of for a mage to carry a weapon for close combat. I believe you will find these blades to be unobtrusive.” Cullen explained, holding them out in earnest._

_“Un. . . obtrusive?” Her brow pinched, she stared at him, forgetting her usual shyness around the Commander. “Would you be so kind to explain your choice of words?”_

_Cullen’s blank stare did not improve her mood. “Yes. Unobtrusive. These are small, Harritt made them to my specifications. I meant no offense, Inquisitor. The pair of blades will fit well against your,” he grabbed the back of his neck, “your hips. . .err, waist . . . I mean - about your person. Maker’s breath, you’re making this far more difficult than it should be.” Cullen inhaled and regained his composed detachment. “If you wish to refuse the blades, then do so.”_

_Cullen’s disappointment struck her when he looked away, not waiting for her answer. Gwen cleared her throat and spoke her mind. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I fear I would injure myself rather than my opponent.” Her attempt to smile and half-hearted apology did not register on his face._

_He nodded, listening to her concern. “Then, if you will permit me, I shall endeavor to teach you the proper technique. Will you consider accepting my gift then, Gwen?”_

_“Your gift?” Gwen realized her earlier slight. “Cullen, had I understood these a gift . . . thank you.” She straightened her posture, matching his formality. “Thank you for thinking of me and I would be most grateful for your help.”_

A quick check of the belt around her waist confirmed the blades secure. Gwen inhaled long and deep, giving herself a final reminder to push the fear from her prescient mind as she exhaled, as Cullen instructed her months prior.

_She slipped and lost her footing as Cullen went through the motions again. “Gwen. Relax your arm, you’re reaching. Let him come to you. Here, if I may?” Cullen dismissed the soldier, thanking him for his help._

_“I will not get this, Cullen. The others stand in front of me whenever an opponent gets too close.” Gwen explained as she walked with him towards the training post._

_“That is because you allow it. You’re stronger than you realize. Have faith.” Cullen’s expression softened for a moment before her hid behind the training post. “Now, Inquisitor my turn to give the orders.” He flashed a grin and returned to his serious task. “Remember to breathe, Gwen. Inhale deep.” Taking a deep breath, she coughed._

_Cullen slipped and chuckled before he could catch it. “Forgive me. Maybe not that deep, Gwen. Try again and this time when you exhale, push the fear from your mind. You will succeed. Believe in yourself as I do, Gwen.” When the time came for her to deepen her training, it had been Cullen’s support for her to study the way of the Knight Enchanter._

The slight tremor in her hands prompted Gwen to squeeze her fists tight. The remembrance of Cullen’s encouragement did little to steady her nerves crossing under the portcullis.


	6. A Shift in Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor returns to find the unthinkable and Gwen must pull strength to search for survivors.

Gwen reeled at the carnage. All she passed were dead: mages, Templars, Imperial army and many more unrecognizable from their wounds. Hulking bodies lay throughout the courtyard, arrows piercing through them like macabre adornments. Crystalline creatures covered in red corruption, scores of Red Templars had come to Skyhold, and the Inquisition fought with every ounce of its strength.

She struggled to hold back tears walking through the courtyard, her staff at the ready. Cassandra, Alistair and Hawke were the first to reach her. “Inquisitor, do not wander without us,” Cassandra’s cautious words held Gwen still.

Gesturing toward the main stairs, Alistair offered to lead a group leading to the main hall and while Cassandra directed the others to search elsewhere; none of them did, vowing to accompany the Inquisitor.

“Fine, but spread out,” the Seeker ordered, before adding, “and don’t cluster -look for survivors.”  Gwen grateful for Cassandra’s guidance admiring her mental strength and leadership.

A voice startled Gwen where she stood. She turned to find Cole behind her, his face hidden under his hat. “No, the Nightingale waits, find her first. She has them safe.”

“Cole! Leliana is here? Can you find her?” Gwen asked.

He nodded and led the group towards the stables. The barren stalls gave Gwen hope for survivors; if the animals escaped, they had help.  As Gwen and Cole turned towards the stairs on the left, Cole pushed her behind him covering Gwen. Near the stairwell, Red Templar stood with great shield at the ready, with two swordsmen flanking him. Cole noted the archer in the upper area of the barn. He looked back at Varric and Sera.

“On it, Kid.” Varric directed Sera’s attention up toward the barn’s loft.

Varric and Bianca took aim targeting the archer with Sera following his lead. Without a word, the battle begun. Gwen felt a heavy hand yank her further away from the fray until she stood behind Alistair and Cassandra. Gwen’s fury took over, unleashing magic in torrents of fire and blasts of ice; the faces of the fallen urging her to vengeance until one of the swordsman broke through the line. Remembering the victims, those who died protecting Skyhold ignited her fury. The Templar stood in her way. Leliana, Cullen and the others left behind needed her.  The daggers would do little against his armor. _The spirit blade_ , she thought, _it’s all I have_.

_“Concentrate my dear, you must summon the blade from the Fade.” Vivienne’s words were not harsh, unlike those from Commander Helaine._

_The Knight Enchanter circled her, her stern gaze fixed on Gwen. “Stand and declare, Inquisitor!” Words cut deeper than blades as Gwen stood in judgement. “Step forward or fail! If you think to remain a child safe in the bosom of others, this is no place for you! What is your purpose!”_

_“I don’t-“  she stammered, the constant scrutiny adding to her uncertainty; doubt carried her steps away from the training circle until  Gwen backed into a solid mass._

_The scent hit her first; warm and spiced, cool mornings wrapped in safety and comfort. Cullen. The voice confirmed her suspicions._

_“I believe a change in tactics may serve the Inquisitor, Commander Helaine.” Gwen heard the edge to his voice, respect laced with something more. Cullen moved around to face Gwen. “Breathe. Don’t think.”_

_Embarrassed at her failure she shook her head, “no, I can’t.”_

_“Gwen, when you face the unbeatable foe, you will succeed,” Cullen said._

The Red Templar advanced.  Gripping the hilt, Gwen’s determination to find the survivors surged through her, culminating in a glowing blade. She cried out, slashing the spirit blade into the Templar until he collapsed. Gwen turned ready to fight, but found wide eyes staring back at her.

A simple nod from Cole preceded Varric’s laughter. “So, anything else you’re hiding from us?”

She breathed in deep, trying to calm herself after her fight. _I owe Cullen an apology. I guess I could do it,_ she thought.

Gwen shook her head in response to Varric’s question. “We need to check for more.”

Hawke pushed her way forward to Gwen’s side. “I need two. Give me Cole and Sera, we’ll search for any remaining Templars,” Gwen sent Hawke and the others to their task.

Gwen took the time to look around the area with Solas and Alistair. The people, who had trusted her, looked to her for safety–Skyhold had become their tomb. “Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.”

“Does it help, Inquisitor?” Solas asked. “Is there comfort in those words?”

“Not this day, Solas.” Gwen replied. “I must find a way through this for all those we have lost; to honor those in Haven and now to avenge the lives lost in Skyhold. I cannot sit back and allow events to unfold in front of me as if I am nothing more than an observer. This is my burden, whoever I am: human, mage, or Inquisitor, and I will take back Skyhold.”

“Then you shall have my help.” Solas said.  

Cassandra looked to Gwen. “I suggest taking the main hall before locating Leliana; if there is an ambush within these walls the survivors will not escape. Warden, please remain here with Varric and Solas. Protect the Inquisitor.”

While Gwen appreciated Cassandra’s willingness to take control, she felt a strong need to keep their party together. “No, Cassandra. If we all go, then perhaps we assure victory. Agreed?”

Cassandra nodded. “Inquisitor.”

The party returned to the main entrance, in time to see Hawke, Cole and Sera heading back to their position.

“Inquisitor, there is no one in the towers, no one in the gardens. We dare not enter the other rooms near the main hall. We should return to the locked door and find Leliana.” Hawke reported.

Gwen’s determination to continue steeled her nerves. “Thank you, it’s time for us to take back Skyhold.”

The stairwell leading to Leliana’s tower appeared untouched, and the locked doors offered little difficulty for Varric’s practiced fingers. Despite his speed, Gwen’s impatience grew.

The need to find Leliana and Cullen consumed Gwen’s thoughts, and she prayed that both were unharmed. As they passed the first door, screams echoed from somewhere inside the main hall. Instinct moved Gwen’s hands towards the entry. Before she could push the door open, Hawke stopped Gwen’s advance, shook her head and pointed for them to continue up the stairs. The second set of doors, locked as the first, set Varric to work on the lock. He stopped before opening it hand on the door handle.

Leaning closer to him, Varric’s hushed words still conveyed concern. “I can hear voices, they sound normal enough. They don’t know to expect us, so let me go first; if those inside are expecting Red Templars, their aim will be higher.”

Varric knelt and disengaged the tumbler. Crouching low, he opened the door. Three arrows came out. Varric used his stealth to move through to Leliana’s side. “Stop Nightingale, it’s us. We have the Inquisitor.”

Leliana’s bow remained fixed in her grip while searching the entryway for the face of the Inquisitor. When their eyes met, Leliana let her bow drop to her side. “Thank the Maker.” Gwen took in the room, Josephine stood with Blackwall, Vivienne and Iron Bull. “Good to see you, Boss.”

Gwen’s breath caught realizing there were so few. _What happened to everyone?_ She continued to search, seeing one familiar face after another, each new recognition met with halfhearted smiles and relief. However, with each face, hers continued to contort in worry and fear. Cullen was not among those gathered.

_Where are you, Cullen?_

“Leliana, what happened? Where is everyone? Where is Cullen?” Gwen asked trying to keep her voice even.

“We need to get these people out of Skyhold, Inquisitor, we evacuated many to Orlais, but others stayed behind to fight. Those who remained retreated here 3 days ago.” She led Gwen up to the tower.

“The Red Templars arrived not long after you left for the Approach. My scouts reported Red Templar movement in Ferelden; when they reached the edge of the Frostback Mountains, we sent all we could to Orlais. They hit us hard, but we repelled the first two waves. There are perhaps a few remaining and Samson. I believe Samson planned this around your absence thinking we would not survive.”

Gwen took a deep breath. “And Cullen?”

Bull stepped closer to Gwen. The gentle touch on her shoulder and the collective sigh around the room startled her. “No, do not tell me he’s dead.”

“Boss, he lives, but Samson took him; we haven’t seen him since the fighting started.”

 _Samson_. Gwen remembered Cullen’s stories, how he felt the intensity of Samson’s betrayal. Cullen may have left the Order behind him, but his devotion remained.

_“Where are you,” Gwen asked, “this is about Samson, isn’t it.” Cullen hadn’t answered her questions or commented for the better part of an hour._

_The veil over Cullen’s face lifted and his lackluster attempt at a smile fell flat. A quick absent kiss on her hand, revealed he planned to leave the Rest. “Forgive me, I. . .don’t want to add to your concerns.” The scrape of his chair against the floor tweaked her nerves, and she followed him out into the yard._

_“Cullen, wait.” She hesitated watching his shoulders sag. “There’s more to your mood than Samson.”_

_“Gwen. . .how many lost? How many more will fall because of him?”  Cullen glanced back at her and continued up the stairs to his tower._

Unwilling to look at anyone, she asked her question to the floor. “How do you know he lives?” Tiny pinpricks of fear and worry crawled along her skin, hopeful for reassurance.

Bull looked to back to Leliana. When she did not reply, Josephine moved towards Gwen. “Lady Gwendolyn, we know because we can hear his screams.”


	7. A Turn of the Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited with the survivors in Skyhold, the Inquisitor must find Cullen and defeat Samson. With the help of those who remained at her side, she hopes to succeed.

A moment of complete clarity comes with the acceptance of one’s fate. _Modest in Temperament, Bold in Deed._  Reciting the Trevelyan motto to underline her decision, Gwen believed her family would understand. She would get Cullen back regardless of the price. He could lead the armies against Corypheus and Gwen would give the Inquisition their Commander. 

She tried to muster a commanding voice, but found her own lacking. “I’m going in–alone.”

Restraint prevented a loud outcry from her companions, but Dorian did not care. “Gwendolyn, I can’t allow it. I’m going with you.”

Proclamations of loyalty and intent sounded from all around her.  Varric added, “listen Princess, we’ll get him back. Just let us see what we can do about getting Ruffles and the others out of here first. Then we rescue Cullen.” Leliana caught Varric’s eye. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Gwen witnessed the exchange and understood its meaning. Leliana believed Cullen beyond their reach. “If there is but a chance he or anyone survives, I will not yield to fear. Are we clear, Leliana?”

“Yes, Inquisitor, I apologize. We will abandon no one.”

The truth of the situation carried in Leliana’s words hung heavy in Gwen’s heart. She understood the selfish nature of her plan, no matter how she tried to conceal it in the greater good.  Hopeful her companions would not attempt to change her mind, Gwen issued orders.   “I need willing volunteers to lead this group to safety, if Orlais is where the rest of our people wait; take them to Orlais.” Gwen continued to review the problem, recalling all she could from Cullen’s lessons.

_“Aren’t you going to eat, Cullen?” Gwen asked, peeling another section of crust from her bread._

_He shook his head, looking at his papers. “No, watching you mangle that poor loaf. . .I doubt I can.” He glanced up at her with a slight grin. “You asked to go over more tactics, Gwen.”_

_“I like the crust,” she said before drinking from her water mug. “All right, so one more lesson, and then we can eat.”_

_He blinked in rapid succession; a little quirk Gwen noticed whenever Cullen tried to temper a sarcastic remark. “Destruction of baked good aside, I thought you were eating.”_

_“Cullen. Don’t you ever stop working? All right, here’s my offer. One more lesson–one- then you have to share a story that doesn’t involve soldiers, armies, weapons, armor, tactics–or trebuchets,” she grinned, proud of herself for covering all of Cullen’s usual topics._

_“I see,” he said, “I will agree to your terms under one condition.”_

_Gwen leaned forward, “name it.”_

_Pointing towards the plate in her lap Cullen issued his request. “Please finish that or cover it up. I’m feeling a strange sense of sympathy for your food.”_

Thoughts of Cullen’s gentle teasing did not improve her mood, and Gwen disengaged from her instructions.

Cassandra, seeing the change in the Inquisitor, sought to help her focus. “I will lead this group to Orlais with Blackwall, Vivienne, Sera and Solas. What will you do here, Inquisitor?” 

 _Yes, Gwen. What will you do?_ Taking her cue from Cassandra, Gwen attempted to use the same convictions. “I can’t ask any of you to stay; I need help to bring Samson down. Even if-” Gwen’s voice faltered, the thoughts running through her head threatening to overtake her. “We owe it to the Commander to try, but regardless of Cullen’s condition, I plan to destroy Samson.”  Murmurs of agreement wove through the small group.

A female dwarf pushed through the crowd. “Inquisitor?" Dagna appeared clutching a round disc-shaped stone in her hands.  “The Commander had me working on this after you discovered Maddox’s lab. It’s just a rune, but it should weaken his armor enough to allow you to attack him. I didn’t have time to test it, so I can’t be sure what it will do.” Dagna offered the runestone to Gwen. “Maybe it will help.”

“Thank you, Dagna.” Gwen said.

Alistair and Hawke stepped forward. “We will stay behind with you.”

Each member of Gwen’s party demanded to be part of the rescue. Raising her hands, Gwen turned to speak. “Thank you my friends. I could not ask for friends more loyal or dedicated. Please follow my orders. Take this group to safety. Search for survivors. I will do what I can with Hawke and Alistair. Cassandra, you will lead them to safety. Now go, please. We will join you when Samson is dead.”

Gwen turned and walked deeper into the tower. She would face none of them as they left.

“Well, I am not about to let you have all the fun.” Dorian called to her, “you need someone other than those two,” Dorian gestured to Hawke and Alistair, “watching your back.”

“Maker’s blood, Dorian! I told you to go.” Gwen’s admonishment clashed with Dorian’s determination; the stubborn mage unmoving before her, arms crossed.

“No. Sorry, I refuse. If you insist on this mission, then you will take me with you. You need another mage.  Hawke and Alistair can use blades or arrows. Whereas I, as you already know, can be _invaluable_.” Dorian touched Gwen’s arm. “Look. Those two are more than capable, but when we rescue Cullen, you will need my help so he can travel.”

Bull wedged his large frame next to a stack of crates, leaning against them. “Sorry, Boss. You’re stuck with me too.”

Gwen closed her eyes, sighing through her words. “Fine. Get prepared.”  Once again, she moved apart from the others; and once more, each of her companions offered encouragement and promises to return. _Mild in Temperament, Bold in Deed_ , she reminded herself. “Courage, Gwen,” she said opening the door to the main hall.

The massive room appeared empty except for a figure slumped in a corner and another sitting on her chair. Before she left for the Approach, the renovated hall had included intricate crafted banners marking the Inquisition’s occupation of Skyhold. Towering statues of proud mabari flanked the walls. Her choice-a silent nod to the man who’d helped her so many times without asking for anything in return. When Cullen had spoken of his home and family in Ferelden, she’d ordered the change to all but the Inquisition’s heraldry.   
  
Acts of violence removed all signs of the hall’s former beauty; banners shredded into rags littered the stone floor, firepits overturned, their contents strewn about, and even the statues reduced to rubble. Gwen had never expressed intense emotions, it wasn’t done in her family, but this violation of the Inquisition and the sanctuary of so many ignited the need to punish the guilty and see them pay for their offences. It was then she spied the cause of the destruction, sitting in her chair. “Samson,” she hissed, ready to strike. A firm grip held her in place.

“Inquisitor. I was beginning to doubt my information about you was correct.” Rising to his feet Samson mocked her. “I had heard of your _strength_ and _bravery_ , but all I see is a frightened little rabbit before me.”

Dorian stood behind Gwen and Hawke. “The man near the Undercroft door must be Cullen.” He gestured with a simple nod before continuing.  “Distract the Templar and I will attempt to get closer.  Can you keep Samson occupied?”  Gwen assured Dorian she would do as necessary, her eyes fixed on the slumped figure.

Taking the lead, she stepped towards the center facing Samson. He’d changed the chair she preferred to the vulgar dragon’s maw they’d found in the Undercroft.

_“Maker’s breath, are you going to sit on that. . .that thing?” Cullen’s incredulous tone coaxed laughter from the other advisors._

_Gwen looked to her ambassador. “It’s unique and rather imposing, don’t you agree Josephine?”_

_The ambassador wrinkled her nose, her dislike clear. “It’s hideous. No. I agree with Commander Cullen.”_

Thinking on Cullen reminded her of her task and Gwen threw her first spell without warning. She hit Samson dead center with her ice barrage, but the magic deflected off his armor.

Despite his gaunt face and sunken eyes, Samson’s booming laughter filled the empty hall. “You will not defeat me. Corypheus has given me the power. Here, Inquisitor is where you fall.” Samson descended the steps from the throne towards Gwen’s position.

Gwen unleased several more spells. Each a futile effort, but Gwen kept Samson fixated on her struggle against him allowing Dorian and Bull precious time to reach Cullen.

Seeing the two reach Cullen’s position Gwen called out to Corypheus’ general. “Are you afraid of a scared little rabbit, Samson?  I have nothing left to lose!”

He beat a single fist against his armor before stretching his arms wide in triumph. “You can’t hurt me; the red lyrium protects me, a gift from the Elder One!”

A quick glance revealed Dorian and Bull moving with Cullen towards the right side of the main hall towards Solas’ rotunda.

Relief flooded through her, fueling her confidence and carrying her closer to her enemy. “Your arrogance makes you blind. Corypheus gave you a fancy toy and only good little boys get to keep their toys. You have been a _very naughty boy_.”

“Now _that_ is a terrible line. Would you mind if I borrowed it?” Alistair asked.

Hawke rolled her eyes and called for Gwen to use the rune. A flash of red light and the sound of cracking crystal filled the hall. Samson staggered. “How is this possible? I am his chosen!”

Hawke and Alistair moved into position as Gwen called out, “take him down!”

Alistair barreled into Samson knocking him down . Samson, weakened by the broken armor fell to his knees and tried to crawl away, but Warden refused to give any quarter, but it was Gwen who called the Warden to stay his blade.

“Enough! Leave him to me.”  Gwen stalked him - a predator regarding its prey.  A string of warnings and calls for caution had little impact on Gwen’s determination. Knowing Cullen to be in Dorian’s care ignited her need to punish Samson. She’d never felt such depth of purpose. Samson would pay.

Closing the distance between them,  she questioned him. “How many days? How many days did you torture Cullen?” Gwen grabbed his hair and yanked, bringing her knee to his face several times until he spat blood.

Samson laughed through his coughing. “I lost count.” Samson continued to laugh. In the large hall the swish of her dragger freed from its sheath caught Alistair’s attention, drawing him closer.

“Inquisitor there is a better way,” Alistair meant to lead Gwen away from the violent path before her.

Not breaking her hold, she refused to listen. “Back off, Warden.”

“Backing off, my lady.” He’d known the anger surging through her, the need to punish those who took away what once filled the heart.

Gwen instructed Hawke and Alistair to check the rest of the hall. She waited watching their backs retreat further away before returning her attention to Samson. Clenching her fist, the first wave of magic current passed through him; her expression remained blank through his grimacing watching him writhe on the floor. “Did Cullen ask you to stop?”

He spat again on the floor and sneered. “No, not once. Fool believes in this . . . this _Inquisition_.”

She leaned closer, “ask me to stop.” Her lips quivered in anger- jaw set tighter as the second wave coursed through him, sustaining the magic’s intensity, putting all her emotion and strength into Sampson’s pain.

He cried out when she released him, but his words, choppy and stunted still fell from his mouth. “I can do this for days, how about you?”

Gwen needed to act before Hawke and Alistair stopped her.  “Samson, unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of days. You die today.”

Samson continued to laugh. “Do what you will. I still won. I took what mattered most.”

From the entrance on the far side, Alistair called out, “Inquisitor? Is something wrong?”

Hearing the approaching steps, Gwen took one of her daggers -ignoring the shouts from Hawke and the Warden - plunging it into Samson’s neck.

She turned from him, letting her fear flow away with Samson’s blood across the stone floor. She hurried through the door to Solas’ area to find Dorian working on Cullen. Bull blocked her way.

 “Bull, move,” her order caught in her throat. 

“Gwen. You don’t want to see-”

“Move now!” Gwen stalked over to where Dorian kneeled next to Cullen. She gasped at the realization; the broken man in front of her was not Cullen Rutherford.  “Cullen? But-?”

Bull’s strong hands gripped her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Boss.”

Her exhale, broken and rough grabbed the attention of the wounded man.  “He’s. . .he’s in the cells. Don’t go.” Gwen broke free of Bull’s comfort and hurried back into the hall, missing Hawke and Alistair by a few inches as she bolted past them.


	8. A Light in the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five months earlier, Gwen tries to make sense of Cullen's intentions, finding it easier to push him away rather than face what she knows has grown between them.

Five months earlier. . .

Restless and bored, Gwen ventured out into the courtyard, returning greetings and wandering in the waning light. She’d left Blackwall’s little makeshift workspace grateful for his time. It seemed all of her companions understood the tension with Commander Cullen. Even she couldn’t miss the smile when she approached, the sudden softness to his voice. If she stopped to think, Gwen might have to concede she enjoyed his attention. She reflected on her conversation as she strolled.

_Scratching his beard, he peered at Gwen to be sure she wasn’t having fun at his expense. “You’re asking me for advice, my lady? Dorian or Varric or even the Lady Vivienne-”_

_Gwen pressed her lips together. “Yes, I suppose I am.” She leaned against the post. “I can’t go to the others. I need an honest answer not an admonishment or teasing.”_

_He crossed his arms and faced her nodding once. “Ask me then, my lady. If I can, I will answer.”_

Despite her pleas Blackwall refused to answer questions about Cullen. She passed the tower, noticing the torches still burned and wondered if the Warden had been right. _Blackwall said I should talk with Cullen._ _Do I risk being the fool?_ “One kiss. That’s all .. . maybe it was more than just one,” she cursed her weakness. _Mage and Templar, Templar and Mage. Forbidden._   “He’s no longer beholden to the Order, Gwen.”

A deep laugh broke through the argument she carried on with herself. “You always argue with yourself out loud?” 

Gwen’s hand flew to her chest as Bull stepped out of the shadows. “Relax, Boss.  It’s me. To answer your question-yea, he’s done with the Order. You should go talk with him. Cullen’s a good man.”

“You seem so sure,” Gwen breathed not knowing what to do.

“I make it a point to know who I’m dealing with and who has my back. Go, trust me.” He walked towards the door of the Rest. “Good luck, Boss.” A quick grin filled his face only to return to his usual stoic expression as he disappeared inside.

Laughter and music from inside the Rest did nothing to quell the churning nerves or fear gripping her steps. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Easy. Talk to him. Right?” 

Climbing the steps to Cullen’s tower was anything but easy. Her legs rebelled in sluggish motion offering her a chance to save the impending embarrassment sure to follow her. She rested her head against the door, a promise to turn and leave if anyone else waited inside.

Hoping her timid knock inaudible, Gwen announced her arrival.

“It’s open!” His solid response startled her, and she hesitated once more before opening the door.

The Commander waited to greet his visitor. Upon seeing Gwen, he stood and his features softened. “There you are. I was just thinking of you.”  A small knot in his forehead revealed his question before he asked. “Is there something you needed?”

A slow and silent nod preceded her response, “do you have time? I thought we might. . .talk.”

“Of course, how about the garden? Allow me a few minutes and I’ll join you.”  His soft smile reached his eyes. “Gwen?”

She returned his smile and agreed. “I’ll be waiting,” she said allowing him to walk her to the door.

The fires of Skyhold carried the keep into night bathed in flickering flames. The garden at the late hour, abandoned by almost all, afforded her the silence and solitude she craved.  Before she’d left for the Circle, her older brothers allowed her to follow them on their adventures, but even then Gwen preferred to sit in the manicured gardens of her home.  She’d often fall asleep on the stone benches, only to find herself carried into the villa by others, but Skyhold didn’t feel like home, it was too big- too cold. Her companions lent warmth and semblance of home to the sprawling keep.

Gwen waited near the well, watching the last stragglers leave the garden in favor of sleep.  Hugging herself, she rubbed her arms contemplating what she would say to Cullen.

They’d stumbled around one another, neither one leading the other into a relationship. She’d suspected his reluctance revolved around their affiliations rather than her person. It all changed at the Winter Palace.

_Gaining entrance to Royal wing would take a joint effort between Leliana and Josephine leaving Gwen to wait by the ornate railing of the mezzanine. Startled by the unannounced hand on her arm, she wheeled around to face Cullen. She’d never seen so much emotion or watched him struggle to keep calm._

_“Inquisitor,", he whispered, keeping his voice low, “I heard of the attack, are you injured?”_

_She stared, unsure of how to answer. “Not here.”_

_A firm hand led her away from prying ears; an empty alcove would serve as cover for their conversation. Cullen looked her over, eyes scanning for any injury. “I see no severe injuries, are you unwell?” Her blank stare a reaction to his outpouring of concern unnerved him more. “Maker’s breath, Gwen, are you hurt?”_

_“No, I’m all right. Why are you angry?” Gwen couldn’t understand what she’d done to upset him._

_He looked around before stepping closer. “Propriety will have to wait.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her for mere moments before letting her go. “Listen, you must put distance between you and your foe, and use your strengths. To lead you do not have to stand in the forefront. Your safety is far too important to contemplate self- sacrifice at this juncture.”_

_Gwen retorted without thinking, “I see how it is, sneak the Inquisitor away for a secret hug and a lecture Commander, this is most irregular.”_

_Ears tinged with red, embarrassment clear in his neck rub and sudden shifting of his feet Cullen looked away. “It was a lecture wasn’t it,” he asked._

_“I rather enjoyed the hug, but you’re right, of course.” Gwen leaned forward until her head rested against his. “What am I doing here Cullen?”_

_Pulling her away, his grip on her shoulders firm and steady, he met her eyes with a gentle smile. “You are securing a future for all of us.”_

“You can do this Gwen.” The absence of sound in the garden stressed the separation she felt whenever a decision fell to her. Her jumbled nerves unraveled at the sound of Cullen’s voice. 

“I agree. You will succeed, Gwen. Believe in yourself as I do.” His usual subtle delivery and gentle demeanor fit her current mood.

Unable to look away from him, he’d taken the time to shed his almost constant armor and opted for simple tunic and trousers. “I’ll take your silence as approval. At a glance, we are two sharing an evening and not the offices we hold. What did you want to discuss?”

His expression melted when Gwen stepped away from him. “What are we doing?”

Cullen’s confidence cracked at her words, his hesitant steps carrying him closer. “Gwen. I don’t understand.”

“You remember the Circle, don’t you? Templars and mages remained outward enemies unless it came to loveplay? Is that what this is? Am I a game to you?” Gwen didn’t believe a single word, it was easier to push Cullen away than to admit she cared for him.

 He raked his fingers through his hair, holding his head tight before dropping his hands.  No stranger to rejection, he could have spoken for her. “How little you think of me. I thought . . .why now?”

Gwen didn’t reply.

“If you sought to wound me, you have succeeded. Perhaps I misunderstood.” Cullen turned from her. “I admitted my concerns to you, and it was you- Gwen- who assured me you didn’t see me as a Templar. What changed?”  Realizing his aggressiveness, Cullen lifted a hand and then closed his eyes. “Forgive me. For a moment, I thought I might fight for something- I mean someone- outside the trappings of the Inquisition.”  Instead of leaving, he stepped closer. “Look at me and tell me this is real, Gwen. Did another try to influence you? If you wish me to leave you here I will; if you can deny even for a moment, that nothing remains between us, I will remove myself and return as Commander.”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Gwen couldn’t speak. Cullen would leave if she didn’t. “I don’t want you to go. It’s better if-” 

Despite his interruption, Cullen’s voice remained calm. “Better for whom?”

Surprised at the lack of anger in his words and the affection in his eyes, she allowed the words to flow from her. The scrutiny she saw in the eyes of her companions, the inadequacies of her leadership, every fear she swallowed within her and how she couldn’t carry him down with her if she failed. The more she revealed, her admissions continued until she’d unburdened all her secrets to his ears.

Surprise turned to shock as he spoke to her in more detail of his ordeals from Kinloch to Kirkwall, not comparing their lives but sharing a ritual uncovering of secrets and burdens until the two, spent from their revelations sat in a subdued silence.

Their absence noted,  a runner interrupted long after midnight inquiring to their well-being. Assurances made, Cullen walked Gwen to the door. Placing a lingering kiss on her forehead, his words returned them both to the reality yet to come. “I’ll be waiting for you here. My official stance is for  caution and to take care, Inquisitor.”  A light smile preceded his kiss, strong and warm saying  so much  more than his words. When Cullen pulled back, he whispered, “between us, don’t take anyone’s shit. You’re stronger than you realize.” 

She stared wide eyed at his use of profanity. A quick wink in her direction his sole reaction before helping her through the door. She left for the Approach the following day.


	9. A Twist of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen hurries to the cells of Skyhold hoping to find the Commander of the Inquisition. When she emerges, the future of the Inquisition is irrevocably changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Within this chapter is a non-canon character death in an alternate universe setting.

 

Gwen’s destination firm in her mind, she struggled to stay upright, and running faster than her legs could carry her towards the cells. She couldn’t understand how Hawke had forgotten to check the prison.  
  
The Inquisition did not keep prisoners respectful of Gwen’s wishes; the cells should have been empty. A momentary sense of relief carried Gwen through finding no sign of Cullen searching the main area.  
She hadn’t set foot inside since they’d first toured all of Skyhold; the thought of what the stones might know frightened her then; within three days of their arrival she ordered it closed.

_Despite his assurances to his availability at her whims, Gwen knocked on Cullen’s door._

_“Come!”_

_The sharpness of his command startled her. Stepping inside his office, recognition changed his demeanor. Cullen’s hardened features relaxed, the corners of his mouth lifted suggesting a smile. A slight nod and even more subtle bow preceded his often heard apology. “Forgive me, my lady.” He paused, leaning back on his heels. “Was there something you needed?”_

_She’d practiced her speech several times, but standing in his presence Gwen couldn’t see how he’d ever accept an order from her. “I would like. . . I. . .that is. . .why is this so hard?”_

_A knot in his forehead grew listening to her struggle. “Something troubles you?”_

_“Give me a moment!” Gwen hadn’t meant to snap. “You can be rather intimidating, Commander.”_

_His hand rose, reaching for his neck. “I can intimidate? Forgive me, my lady, if I have offended you in some way, then allow me to apologize.”_

_Frustration and embarrassment carried her forward. “This is why I should not attempt to speak in public. I was content to sit in corners and read, unburdened by trying to formulate complete sentences.”_

_Cullen tried to hide a smile at her rant. “You seem to formulate sentences without difficulty, my lady.”_

_She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped; a rosy tinge covering her cheeks. “May I start again?”_

_“Of course,” he offered, “what did you wish to discuss?”_

_“The prison,” she said._

_Cullen focused on her face, trying to make sense of the conversation. “You have some issue with the prison?”_

_“Right. My issue,” she said, balling her hands into tight fists. Gwen shook them as she spoke. “I cannot accept the use of that place.” She met his eyes. “Will you agree to leave it as is? Restrict access to the space.”_

_She saw his disagreement in the tilt of his head and advancing steps. “We may encounter those we wish to question and they will-”_

_“No,” her response definitive, but still timid Gwen tried to make him understand. “I cannot allow the incarceration of a life, regardless of their crimes. If the situation presents itself, deliver the accused to Ferelden or Orlais or even the Templars.”_

Cullen had agreed to post a single guard and keep the cells empty. The possibility of Cullen languishing  within the crumbling walls pained her. Reaching the door to the outer cells, she doubted the information about Cullen’s whereabouts and yet Gwen still hesitated before stepping through the rear door.   
  
Rushing water falling from the mountain range grabbed her attention toward the right side. A cursory glance showed all the cells either destroyed or empty.   
  
“Back to gloat, are you?” The voice - unfamiliar to her - deep and coated in disdain came from the left. Slick stones amplified her steps as she approached. A man stood with his back to her, hands pressed against the wall of the cell; his tunic ripped and stained with blood.   
  
Recognition stole her voice, her eyes noting his height and the hint of familiar blonde hair encrusted in muck. “C-C-Cullen?” Gwen fought to steady her voice. “It’s Gwen.” Tentative steps carried her nearer to the bars. “Where is the key?” She pulled on the cell door, cursing herself for thinking it would give under her strength.

“Gwen.” Cullen’s flat tone disturbed her. “Get out. You can’t be here.”

Another step closer brought another plea from her. “Please tell me where the key is, Cullen. Let me help you.”

A derisive laugh fell from him. “You can’t.  Open your ears Gwen; you shouldn’t be here. I’m not. . .who I once was. I don’t belong . . .leave me. You won’t like what you see. I’m like the rest of those misguided fools.  A monster. Go.”

 “You’re like whom, Cullen?” Gwen dreaded the answer, one she knew. Samson had said, _‘I’ve taken what mattered most’_. His back to her, she watched his posture slump.

“The Red. There’s no way back, Gwen. So, go.” Cullen sighed, pounding the cell wall.

Gwen pleaded with him. “We can fix this, Cullen. I’ll find a way, there has to be a way to reverse this.”

He scoffed, keeping his back to her. “Reverse this?” Cullen stretched his neck muscles left and right. He turned to face her closing the distance between them. If not for the bars of the cell, he would have overtaken her.

The veins in his neck pulsed; life corrupted in crimson lines. His once gentle eyes blazed with hate, their warmth stolen and replaced with poisoned vision. His laugh, mocking and scorn tore through the last bits of her sanity. He gripped the bars and ground his hands around them, rusted flakes falling from the effort. Gwen searched for a sign of her Commander, but found none. His breathing quickened, half-lidded eyes and a grimace preceded a violent shudder.

“Are you . . .in pain?” Gwen asked little doubt to his condition.

 “Pain, Gwen?”  He released the bars stepping back, licking his lips before issuing a final warning. “Free me and discover the answer,” Cullen spat, his fists banging against the bars before turning towards the wall.

Unwilling to leave she stepped closer. “Cullen, let me help.” 

Without a sound, Cullen slammed against the bars extending his arm. Gwen yelped as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her against the cell his unnatural heat branding her skin.  “Is this what you want?”

The sounds of multiple footstep approaching coupled with shouts for Cullen to release her carried through the chamber.

Bull’s steps, slow and deliberate carried him towards Gwen. Unarmed, he shifted closer and closer until Cullen’s awareness set his eyes fixed on the Qunari. “Close enough, Bull.”

“Come on Cullen, let the Inquisitor go. You don’t want to hurt her.” Bull put out both his hands as he moved closer until Cullen tightened his grip. “This isn’t who you are.”

Cullen spoke through his clenched teeth. “Close. Enough.” His attention returned to her. 

Struggling to breathe, she tried to speak.  Gwen swore a sudden softness took over his hardened features. His left hand gripped her shoulder allowing the other to release her neck. 

“Cullen, please,” she said, before he seized her close once again.

Shouts from all around called for Gwen’s release.

“You heard them, Gwen. Release me to free yourself.” Cullen guided her right hand to the hilt on her belt and whispered the same words, “release me.”

“I can’t.” Her voice squeaked out a weak refusal, eyes welling with tears.

She stiffened as he released the catch holding the hilt in place, Cullen guiding her hand to rest on her spirit blade.  His breath caught, and Gwen searched his face for some sign Cullen remained within. Where she expected tears, she saw none. Taut muscles released, and the slightest tilt of his head reminded her of what she’d lost. A gasp of fear fled her lips. Cullen held the hilt to his chest. 

“Release me,” he said.

Gwen’s hand shook. Cullen muttered words with his eyes closed. _He’s praying,_ she thought, _Maker, no. He’s still Cullen, I can’t._ Gwen wriggled to pull away from him, but Cullen’s firm grip kept them together, wedging the hilt between them. 

 

Sobs wracked her frame. A steady stream of unintelligible words poured from him, Gwen straining to hear. The sudden awareness of Cullen’s arms around her encouraged Gwen to heal him, empowering her magic.  Cullen lurched forward his breath expelled in a violent burst, head smacking against the bars. 

In her haste to help, she’d endowed the spirit blade fulfilling his wish. The blade stabbed through, Cullen’s body sliding down the bars until his knees met the ground. His breath huffed in labored gasps each one softer than the last. All around her, chaos reigned. Magic auras covered him, lock picks clattered against the stone as frantic hands struggled to open the cell.

Gwen knelt opposite Cullen, and with one final look held her eyes, gave a silent nod and closed his.


	10. A Fire in the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath, it falls to Warden Alistair to help take the first steps toward the future.

 

Anxious steps replaced her fitful sleep in the tomb once known as Skyhold.  She’d demanded a pyre, a sign of respect for Cullen. A warrior’s remembrance would be his.  Gwen’s anxieties carried her from balcony to balcony in her room until she screamed, fists clenched in fury at her loss.

The books in their perfect order taunted her failures, and she responded, ripping them from their rest and hurling them across the room.  A constant hammering in her head forced Gwen to the floor gripping her head to stop the pain.

The small contingent that remained behind argued in her stairwell, but it was Hawke who pushed through to Gwen’s room.  Gwen didn’t fight when Hawke helped her to stand. No words of wisdom, no condolences offered Hawke directed movements in silence. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Gwen’s eyes found the Champion staring back emotionless.

“The service will begin at sundown,” Hawke said, her back to Gwen, “I considered him a friend Inquisitor, but Cullen would not have wanted you or anyone to mourn him. If you hadn’t,” she paused searching for the right words, “helped him, I would have. Cullen is–was one of the best among us.”

Unable to speak, Gwen watched as Hawke pushed the others out of the room and closed the door. The warmth around her and soft glow of the fire mocked the emptiness within. She felt the sting of his loss at her hands. _Maker what have I done?_ Replaying her betrayal of Cullen in her head threatened to renew her tears.  The hissing of hushed voices carried on nearby, Gwen sure the sounds of music carried from below. She turned over, grabbed the pillow and sobbed into sleep.

The bright sunlight streaming into her quarters revealed she hadn’t slept at all, with hours to go before the service; she sat up feeling more lost and unsure than before.

Hawke and Alistair sat at her desk, contemplating a game board. Not looking up from her concentrated gaze, Hawke offered advice. “You should rest, we’ve sent Leliana’s birds to alert the survivors to return, but they will not arrive for days, assuming they receive the messages.” 

The two exchanged a series of nods and gestures, the absurdity struck Gwen as funny, but she understood. One of them wanted the other to talk with her. “All right, I’m listening.”

Gwen expected Hawke to offer her words of consolation, but seeing the Champion salute as she headed for the stairs left her perplexed.

A sheepish grin and raised brows from Alistair hinted at his discomfort. “I guess this is where I’m supposed to tell you about Lis.” Meeting her eyes Alistair sighed. “Hawke found me, you know. Set me right. It took a fair amount of threats and coercion to return to the Wardens.  After Elissa,” he paused, swallowing hard before starting again, “after Elissa died, I wanted to give up.”  A pained expression gripped his face.  “That’s not correct- I gave up. Buried my face in a bottle and planned to wait for the end-whatever that was.”

When they’d met in Crestwood, she’d wanted to ask, and every time thereafter the question of the Hero resurfaced, Gwen respected Alistair’s silence and refrained from asking. 

The slightest hint of a smile hid Alistair's growing embarrassment. “You’ll think me still buried in drink when I tell you how I kept going, but I would guess that is why Marion thought we might talk.” He turned his head and laughed.  “I hear her. Elissa, I mean, in my head.  Often when I’m about to do something I shouldn’t, just like she used to caution me.” His voice trailed off leaving Gwen to look away.

Cullen wasn’t Elissa. “ _You_ didn’t cause _her_ death.”

“Didn’t I?” Brow furrowed he stood, rigid in his grief as it surfaced from within. “It should have been me, not her. I could have done so many things to protect her, but I ignored a possibility and _she_ paid for my reluctance. So yes, my dear Inquisitor, I caused her death and until the opportunity presents itself to right that horrible wrong, I live without my Elissa.” Closing his eyes, Alistair inhaled and set his posture calm once more. “Make no mistake, I promised her we would be together always, and I will find a way.”

“I did not understand,” Gwen said, “forgive me.”

The pain Alistair had shared moments before disappeared into the kindness she’d grown accustomed to since meeting him. “You did nothing wrong. My lady Inquisitor, do not give up, not because of Cullen but because of the path you must follow- by Andraste’s grace, fate’s decree or dumb luck, I can’t say.” He stepped nearer, choosing to sit on the small bench near her. “You have good people looking to you for guidance. Lead them now. Listen to your heart and mind, and maybe by the grace of the Maker-Cullen’s voice will find you.”

She couldn’t disrespect his sentiments no matter how wrong his suggestions in her eyes. “Thank you, Alistair.” 

He waited with her until Hawke returned with news the others waited to begin.  The determination in her movements only carried her as far as the stairs, Gwen’s knees wobbled in her attempt to step down.  As they had been since their first meeting, Alistair and Hawke’s support caught her momentary slip.

The Warden offered his arm, and she accepted, his guidance subtle and unobtrusive, but needed. The walk down the multiple staircases and long halls allowed Alistair to distract Gwen. “You know, Cullen was a bit of a shit when we first met.” Alistair glanced sideways at Gwen continuing despite the annoyed admonishment from Hawke.  Leaning his head closer he pretended to whisper. “Hawke’s too much of a _lady_ to admit the same.” 

Hawke’s snorted laughter and Alistair’s gentle teasing relaxed Gwen.  Her mind wandered, searching for any memory to fill the rising dread descending the last steps into the courtyard.

_“You snore when you sleep, Gwen.” Cullen chuckled, pulling her closer._

_“You lie!” Laughing first because she couldn’t say if she did or not, but more at his continued amusement._

_She felt his lips against her forehead. “Perhaps a small fib.”_

_“No nightmares?” She’d not remembered any distress through the night and his current playfulness suggested he’d slept._

_He breathed her in and sighed through his words. “No nightmares. Thanks to you.”_

_She grinned, eager to return his earlier tease. “A powerful mage I must be to vanquish your night visitors, perhaps we should share this magic with others?”_

_“I hope you’re joking.” Cullen offered in all seriousness. “Sharing was never a virtue of mine.”  He sighed once more._

_“What is it?” She heard him start to speak and then stop, her curiosity overshadowing her concern. “Cullen?”_

_“Nothing,” he said, before clarifying. “That’s not true, I didn’t expect this, but how I feel . . . it’s all so . . . new.”_

“All so new,” she murmured, Alistair guiding her closer to the pyre.

Her muscles tensed, and breath caught seeing Cullen lying atop a wood pile over a mound of rocks.  Hesitant to believe it him, her tentative reach touched Cullen’s hand. The iciness of his skin surprised her, she’d grown so used to his warmth; even on the coldest of nights his skin against hers warmed her more than any ever could. In her other hand, his coin-the only remembrance.  Her arm stretched out across his chest, she’d thought to slip the memento beneath his tunic, until his voice interrupted her. 

_Gwen, don’t.  Keep it close._

Recoiling, she knew it was not Cullen warning her, Alistair’s earlier words had set her mind in motion. The coin Cullen had given to her for protection or for luck, so he said, but Gwen knew it meant much more.

_I believe in you, Gwen._

Closing her eyes, the coin remained firm in her grasp. She inhaled allowing the frigid air to cleanse her thoughts. She was ready. Opening her eyes, Gwen nodded once to Hawke. Even though there were so few gathered, each one offered a memory to honor the Commander of the Inquisition.  She listened at first, thankful to have her companions around her.  A slow buzz filled her ears, growing louder as the ground beneath her feet seemed to liquefy and Gwen stumbled. A vague sensation of rising into the air filled her senses until all fell numb. 

Gwen opened her eyes to concerned faces and worried words, but the blaze behind them shocked her into a waking state.  Supported by her companions, Gwen stood staring well into morning, until the last ember faded.


	11. In His Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another loss, a deeper withdrawal. For Gwen Trevelyan a stolen set of keys provides the first step to finding her way back.

In the months that followed, Cullen’s tower remained empty, sealed by Cassandra’s order. Gwen's advisors, now comprised of Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine kept a close watch on the Inquisitor.  The Siege of Adamant had been a successful failure; the Grey Wardens received a second chance, but at the cost of yet another life.  Marion Hawke.

_“Look,” she said, pointing up at the giant spider, “that . . . thing is the problem. Alistair, you must take the Inquisitor through the Rift, the Wardens need you, and the Inquisition needs you. Help Gwen fight back as you did.”_

_Shaking his head Alistair countered. “Shut up Marion, I’m staying. You can help as much as anyone else can. Go.”_

_The two argued until Gwen shouted for them to stop, knowing she’d have to choose. Alistair wanted to find Elissa and fulfill his promise of forever to her.  However, she could not deny the need for strong leadership in the Wardens. Elissa would have wanted Alistair to continue and not give up.  “Hawke’s right. I’m sorry, but the Wardens need you and your leadership.” Realizing her choice and the consequences it would carry, Gwen searched for the proper words to convey her thoughts._

_It had been Hawke to remind her of Cullen’s strength. Hawke had defended Gwen’s decision to remain at Skyhold and during the worst nights of her despair Hawke had coaxed laughter and tears from her stories of an awkward and soft-spoken Knight Captain in Kirkwall. Unable to find suitable words, Gwen’s sorrowful expression looked to her friend. “Hawke.”_

The return from Adamant blurred into a series of well-meaning conversations. An unspoken agreement of mutual avoidance fell between Varric and Gwen; she could not face him in her guilt and he unwilling to compound the burden on the Inquisitor by saying the wrong words.

Of those who survived, all returned to Skyhold eager to rebuild and resume their goals;losing the Inquisition’s Commander bolstered their collective resolve. Templars arrived daily once the news spread eager to lend their support and end the corruption in the Templar Order.

Despite the Inquisition’s renewed commitment, the Inquisitor continued to isolate herself whenever she returned.  She avoided the Herald’s Rest, the main hall and garden–anywhere someone might seek to talk with her.

Seeing her scurry away as soon as they would arrive from his preferred spot in the hall, it fell to Varric to reach out and end their strained silence.  Gwen reviewed piles of documents, agreements and whatever else Josephine left for her. When the knock sounded on her inner door, Gwen answered without thinking. “It’s open!”

Varric cleared his throat before speaking. “All right, this shit ends now. This silent thing is killing me.”  Leaning against the railing, Varric laughed as he spoke. “Come on! You’re the only one who seems to like to hear me talk.”

Shaking her head at the ease of his ability to make her smile, Gwen invited Varric to join her.

“Well, Princess,” Varric jangled a set of keys, “I found these lying around and thought you might be up for a little adventure. I even have a lookout.”

Gwen’s pointed stare met with a shrug from the dwarf. “You just happened to find Cassandra’s keys lying around?” She’d asked for access to Cullen’s tower several times, but Cassandra though it best to leave the memories alone.

Gesturing for her to follow, Varric laughed even louder. “If you have to ask, you don’t know me very well.” He opened the door leading to the long hallway and stairs. “All three of your jailers are asleep: Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine,” he said, “I’m not positive that Leliana isn’t faking, but no time to check now.”

Gwen stopped. “Varric, we can’t go sneaking around with stolen keys.”

Waving her through the hall and out into the night, Varric whispered. “Hey, it was the Nightingale who took the keys from Cassandra. I leave that kind of theft to the professionals, plus. . .I’m not that crazy. I like my head attached right where it is.”

The two crossed the open yard, heading for Cullen’s tower. A strong cloud of pungent smoke greeted her at the top of the stairs. “Evening, Boss.”

The sight of Bull leaning against the battlements while puffing away left her perplexed. “What are you doing?”

He paused, glanced at Varric and shrugged. “Creating a distraction.”

She couldn’t deny that any of her companions cared for her each in their own unique way. “Thanks Bull.”

“Anytime, Boss.” To Varric, Bull mentioned the longer they hung around, the more likely their group was to attract attention.  “Do you want company, or will you be all right?”  Assuring them both she’d be find on her own, the anticipation so great she hurried Varric to get her inside. The creak of the side door seemed louder than she remembered, but Gwen slipped through the opening, and into Cullen’s tower.

  _Seeing him standing there, a collection of papers in his hands, Gwen waited until he noticed her. He’d bury his head so deep into the printed words of the reports; Cullen could not break his focus until he finished reading through to the end.  She enjoyed watching him; his lips moved as he read, as if to commit every word to memory._

_Flipping the page over, Cullen realized he was not alone and a mild embarrassment crept to his ears. “Inquisitor!” He said, juggling the pages, in order to hang onto them. “Forgive me, I was . . . preoccupied and . . . have you been standing there long?”_

She almost expected to see him waiting there for her, but darkened room reminded her once more of his loss. The layers of dust on his desk and the particles illuminated by the moon through the roof pushed her into action.

He’d kept a small bucket of rags near the ladder; Cullen, always meticulous cleared his desk and bookshelves as part of his weekly ritual. She found the rags and set about cleaning off the accumulation of time from every surface in the office space.  Unprepared to venture up the ladder yet, she sat at his desk, looking through the papers.

She’d known Cullen took time to write whenever possible. He’d shared some of his thoughts and words with her. As she skimmed the pages, she happened to find a small stack of sealed parchments.  Turning the first over in her hands, the unmistakable perfected lettering gave no doubt as to the writer of the letters, but the addressee set her heart to thump. 

_Lady Gwendolyn Trevelyan_

Flipping through the stack of two dozen sealed letters, the name changed as she reached the bottom of the pile.

_Lady Inquisitor_

_Inquisitor_

_Gwendolyn_

_Gwen_

At the bottom of the drawer, pages folded together stuck where the ink had not quite dried when he’d stuffed them aside. She pulled them out, peeling apart the pages with gentle tugs and slow, cautious moves. A mess of words and crossed out sentences pulled her attention to some unknown struggle he faced while writing.

_I could not sleep and rather than wake you, I chose to venture here and sort my thoughts.  How does one express a feeling in words? ~~How does one not write ridiculous words in an attempt to convey a thought and not sound the idiot!~~_

Gwen felt his frustration in the words on the parchment. He could talk at length on almost any topic that interested him, including drawing diagrams to illustrate a point, but the moment Cullen had to express how he felt, his sharp mind would lose its hold and leave him stranded, often dumbstruck.

_Varric explained that your nameday approached and rather than seek the perfect gift, thought to write you instead._

The letter continued with arguments and points he crossed out and tried to write in different ways until the sheet ran out.

_There is no other way for me to explain the joy of hearing you speak my name, knowing when you succeed, there will be time for us then. And you will succeed, Gwen. I know this well. My wish for your day is that you learn to see what lies within you as I have. I am a simple man, with little to offer.Know this, no matter the distance between us; no matter the obstacle before you, I am with you. Now and always. When you need me most, even across great distance, my thoughts are with you._

“Now and always.” Gwen repeated his words, leaving everything but the single page clutched in her hand, refusing to recognize the free flowing tears on her face.

Face slick and mottled; she stepped out to the worried faces of her companions. “I need a favor.”

Bull and Varric agreed without hearing her request, prompting Gwen to warn them before accepting. “Someone needs to wake Cassandra. The Inquisition has been asleep too long, and it’s my fault. I need to call a meeting.”

Varric considered her words and determination, but convinced her to wait until sunrise.

___________________

 

The meeting in the War Room lasted through the day and into the evening. Leliana and Cassandra exchanged glances often.  No longer content to sit back and allow the others to exclude her, Gwen challenged ideas as they discussed them much as Cullen once had.

“Listen well, all of you. We will not take unnecessary risks with our soldiers. Secure the path and then you will fall back to a safe position allowing us to clear out what remains.” Gwen said.

“Inquisitor, I cannot allow you to take such risks. The soldiers can push through to the Temple.” Cassandra said, shaking her head.

“I appreciate your desire to protect me, Lady Cassandra.  If we lose sight of the goal, we will fail. I am asking if you will follow my orders in the field. I cannot allow unnecessary loss of life.”

Cassandra looked to Leliana. Gwen frowned at the exchanged. “Am I missing something?”

 _Easy now._ Cullen’s voice returned to her. _This is concern you see, not challenge._

“No, Inquisitor. You do not seem yourself.” Leliana said, “we will follow you.”

Gwen leaned on the war table with her fists. “I apologize if my words seem rude. I cannot expect any of you to understand, but It is time I take control and shift the power back to the Inquisition. I will not yield.”

Cassandra voiced her agreement, continuing on with questions of readiness. Leliana met Gwen’s determination and without looking away nodded once before asking Josephine on the status of their allies.

Settling back on her heels, Gwen released a slow exhale, as Cullen’s voice filled her head.

_That’s it Gwen. Lead them._


	12. Audio Files for "The Fall"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing ZuleFandom an audio version of the fall is available.
> 
> https://zulefandomgaming.tumblr.com

[The Fall - Audiobook](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLpulKTtmmOY6LNPetoMCZPNHaqDohbk9O)

The link will take you to a collection of audio files prepared by Audiobook by ZuleFandom <https://zulefandomgaming.tumblr.com>

 

Take time to check this writers works here on AO3 as well! [ZuleFandom's AO3 works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuleFandom/pseuds/ZuleFandom)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete rework of one of the first fics I wrote two years ago. The story is off canon and the premise impossible in game. The premise came about thanks to a rather long gaming session and strange dreams.


End file.
